


Stay warm, my love

by LazyAdmiral



Series: Disaster Mage Trio one-shots [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 16:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30024831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyAdmiral/pseuds/LazyAdmiral
Summary: “Ah, someone’s got a love letter,” Varric drawled, grinning even wider when Ana shot him a glare. “Don’t give me that look – the sappy smile there gave it right away.”The Dorian-shaped huddle of scarves and shawls sidled up to one side, peering over her shoulder.“Oh, and I suspect I know exactly the admirer.”-Prompt fill for Tumblr. After a cold day traipsing around Emprise du Lion, Ana receives a letter from Skyhold.
Relationships: Gereon Alexius/Original Character(s), Gereon Alexius/Orsino, Gereon Alexius/Orsino/Original Character(s)
Series: Disaster Mage Trio one-shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2208723
Kudos: 1





	Stay warm, my love

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “I’ve been wrapped in my sorrow for so long, I’m afraid I’ll feel too cold without it.”

Why was it when Lia finally convinced her to venture back out on field missions, it had to be to the most hellish place in all of Thedas? Emprise du Lion might have been beautiful at any other time, but in the midst of one of the worst winters in years, with the river frozen, wolves prowling, and red lyrium sprouting faster than they could dig it up, it certainly wasn’t any more.

Returning to camp after a long day tramping across the snow and ice, Ana cursed, rubbing her gloved hands together as she stamped her feet on the frozen ground in an attempt to get some feeling back into them.

“Yes, that’s what I was thinking,” Dorian remarked, following her back into camp. Or she thought it was Dorian – it sounded like him, but given the only bits of him she could see under all the layers were his eyes and the bridge of his nose, it could have been anyone, really.

At her side, Runa whined pitifully, racing over to the campfire and lying down as close as possible without actually being in it.

“I know, girl, I’d rather be back home too,” she murmured as she followed, holding her hands out to the fire. “I haven’t seen a winter this bad since Lothering.”

“Well, I haven’t seen one this bad _ever_ ,” Varric grumbled, dragging himself to a nearby log set up as a bench. “And I’d have preferred to keep it that way if I’m being honest.”

Cassandra made a dismissive noise in the back of her throat, the only one amongst them seemingly unperturbed by the weather as she set about unloading her gear and cleaning her sword.

“The sooner we’re done dealing with the Red Templars here, the sooner we can return to Skyhold.”

Ana grimaced. The mention of the Red Templars brought back visions of the mines they’d found, along with what remained of Sahrnia’s townsfolk, chilling her in an entirely different way from the cold. Using people to grow red lyrium… it was beyond despicable, making her stomach churn in a mixture of disgust and rage that left her eager to crawl into her freezing bedroll and escape to the Fade for the evening.

She didn’t look forward to reporting it back to Lia, although depending on what her sister’s team found at Suledin Keep, she might already know.

“Ma’am, there’s a letter for you.”

Ana nearly jumped, so preoccupied with her thoughts she hadn’t noticed the scout approaching until he was nearly upon her. She took the letter, thanking the slightly startled scout before taking a look at it.

She’d only just written back to Orsino, so it couldn’t be him – she was half-expecting it to be some query from Leliana or Josephine when she spotted the familiar, elegant script across the front.

Despite the horrible day, she smiled.

“Ah, someone’s got a love letter,” Varric drawled, grinning even wider when Ana shot him a glare. “Don’t give me that look – the sappy smile there gave it right away.”

The Dorian-shaped huddle of scarves and shawls sidled up to one side, peering over her shoulder.

“Oh, and I suspect I know _exactly_ the admirer.”

A mitten-clad hand reached out to pluck it from her fingers and she instinctively snatched the letter back, clutching it to her chest while giving the altus an imperious look.

“Or perhaps one of the Inquisition’s foremost arcane researchers is sending me an update on his progress, hm?” she suggested, raising a singular eyebrow. “Some of us do try to avoid using Inquisition resources for frivolous purposes, Pavus.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me. Well, then, let’s take a look, shall we?” he said, before reaching for the letter again.

This time Ana did jump back, letting out a soft yelp that had Varric laughing out loud and Cassandra rolling her eyes.

“Dorian, I’m sure if Ana’s personal correspondence is of any import to you, you’ll find out soon enough,” the Seeker said, giving him a pointed look, and Dorian surrendered, holding his hands up in front of him before retreating to join Varric by the fire.

Ana shot the Seeker a mildly grateful look, tucking the letter away in her pocket to read later. In _private_.

Evening came on quickly enough, and as the temperature dropped with it, they each retreated to their respective tents after dinner without much preamble. Once any urgent reports had been dealt with, and she was cleaned-up and tucked under a mound of blankets and furs to keep out the worst of the cold, Ana finally pulled out the letter, cracking open the seal.

Lines of precise, careful script met her eyes as she opened up the letter, and she reached over for the lamp, bringing it closer to get a little more light.

  
  


_Amata,_

_I hope this letter finds you safe and well, and not freezing to death in the Orlesian wilderness. I confess I’m beginning to understand why southerners have such a dour disposition if these are the conditions they are exposed to for half the year._

  
  


She smiled.

  
  


_I suppose I am lucky in the regard that Skyhold is far more hospitable than a tent, but it seems a poor consolation when the bed fails to feel quite so warm without you in it. Either that or I am only noticing now that Orsino’s hands and feet are always like ice and without you here, he’s decided I must be the one to warm them._

  
  


That got a quiet snort, muffled against her pillow. Orsino always felt the cold worse than anyone else she’d ever met, except perhaps Dorian, and even in the summer wore half a dozen layers. She’d lost count of the number of nights she’d been rudely woken up to frigid feet against her shins, the man curled around her like a cat next to the kitchen stove.

  
  


_For any complaints, I am grateful for his presence. I think my tendency towards melancholy would have troubled me far worse without him, and no doubt if the situation were different – if he were there and you here – I would feel his absence just as keenly. Maker willing, I hope not to have to face parting with you both at once, although I suppose I won’t be able to avoid it forever. I’ve been wrapped in my sorrow for so long, I’ve been afraid I’ll feel too cold without it – and yet now, I cannot imagine anything colder than being as alone as I was._

_I apologise, I must sound dreadfully maudlin. Clearly, it has been too long since I was last in the habit of writing love letters, although I suppose you suspected as much when you asked me to write while you were gone. It helps, in a way, to write my thoughts – I can say what I wish came so easily when I speak, and in a strange way, you feel nearer now than you did when I first took up my pen. So in the interests of returning to the purpose of this letter, I will say that I love you, and I miss you deeply._

  
  


Ana stopped, closing her eyes as a wave of feeling rose in her chest, warm and bright and bursting. She held the letter to herself for a long moment, letting the surge of love and longing ebb before she continued.

  
  


_Still, perhaps it would be better for me to say what it is that I miss most – from what I understand from the trite romances Dorian keeps hiding on the shelves thinking no one else will find them, that is the done thing, yes? If so, there are plenty to choose from._

_I miss your biting wit, your brilliance, and your boundless curiosity. Watching you untangle mysteries, theories and hypothesis and taming them into truth never ceases to enamour me. Even seeing you cut down those who have earned the sharper edge of your tongue is endlessly entertaining, and I doubt that I am alone in that. On my darkest days, I miss your warmth and laughter most. They brighten a world cast in grey, adding colour where I forgot there was any. Throughout the day, I miss your physical presence – the scent of the citrus oil you use in your hair and the warm cinnamon from your tea, the casual heat of your hand on my arm, your breath on my cheek, the weight of you at my side in bed. And at night, I miss the way I burn for you, overwhelmed and consumed by the touch and taste of you. I crave the soft, pleased sighs I am lucky enough to pull from your lips. Sometimes, I wish I were a younger man that I might let you keep me abed for a day, to have at your whim as often as pleased you. Even now, I ache, tempted to imagine you here._

_But I will stay my thoughts for now. I have rambled on enough and I should stop before I continue and run the risk of turning this letter into the rantings of a lovelorn fool. There are more things I could list, certainly, but I think I shall save them for future letters – provided you still want further correspondence after this one._

_Stay warm, my love, and while it is foolish to ask you to stay safe, I will hope for it regardless, along with your swift return._

_With all my love,_

_Gereon_

  
  


Ana reread the letter again twice more, fingertips tracing the signature at the bottom with the gentlest of touches before she finally relented to her tired eyes and dimmed the lamp, tucking the letter under her pillow. She would write back tomorrow, set down her own thoughts and try to convey back even a fraction of the desperate fondness he’d set glowing in her chest.

The wind howled around the camp, whistling past the tent, but under the blankets, she was warm and safe and happy. When dreams finally took her, it was with a smile on her face.


End file.
